


A Simple Choice

by Irenthel



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14415708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irenthel/pseuds/Irenthel
Summary: Wrathion has set two images in his mind, imprinted there forever, and both are of Anduin’s face.





	A Simple Choice

Wrathion has set two images in his mind, imprinted there forever, and both are of Anduin’s face. The first is one that still hurts in ways that make him want to tear his skin off. Anduin’s eyes flooding with betrayal as they lose focus. The blow is not enough to kill him, and Wrathion was careful to be sure if that. But the blood on the back of his head, the certain white-hot pain... He knew what he meant to Anduin, to his only friend in the entire god-forsaken universe. And youthful ambition and surety still got the better of him.

Wrathion hates to think himself susceptible to that. Age and intelligence were bred into him, forced by Rheastrazsa’s hand. He is disgusted by her, and disgusted more by himself for not taking that curse of science and utilizing it better. For taking the burden of his birthright and isolating himself, for thinking only of the what and not the why. After all, what use is saving the planet if the things worth saving on it are all gone? (And those things are, of course, cool drinks and the view from Mason’s Folly and...)

The second image that stays with him is the cloud lifting from Anduin’s eyes as he frees himself from N’Zoth’s influence. It is a look of confusion, and of recognition, like one waking up from a dream. And for all of Wrathion’s utter bullshit, Anduin looks almost relieved to see him. All those years of avoiding, and certainly Anduin has not forgiven, per se, but he looks like he wants to. And Wrathion knows then that he’s made the right choice. Whatever gods or demons come at this miracle of a planet, Wrathion knows right then that fighting alone is a futile thing.

“I don’t trust you,” says Genn Greymane, the rain pattering loudly against the window. They both watch the door, unmoving. “You lay your head down in this city, but nothing you’ve done has proven that your loyalties are to the Alliance.”

“My loyalties have never been to the Alliance,” Wrathion says, amused, and Genn bristles. “Nor are they to the Horde. They are to Azeroth.”

Genn exhales his empty laugh, and there’s a gruff, canine quality to the way he does it. Wrathion thinks about making a joke, but knows that will start an unnecessary fight, and Anduin will chide him for that. He bites his tongue.

“What are you doing for Azeroth?” Genn interrupts his thoughts. “You declare yourself free from your father’s madness, bring the Legion back in some half-cocked plan, and now you’re a lapdog for the High King.”

Wrathion turns his head and glares, his eyes a burning red. He finds the old man meeting his gaze, unwavering.

“He’s important,” Genn continues, his voice softer, and Wrathion knows it’s out of fatherly affection for Anduin more than any consideration for himself. “But he’s not Azeroth.”

Wrathion returns his attention back to the door, watching, waiting. He’s made his choice, and he’s found his champion.

“He is to me.”


End file.
